


A Devil for my Shoulder

by bookplayer



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookplayer/pseuds/bookplayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you do need complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Devil for my Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-cannon, the middle of senior year of high school.
> 
> This was inspired by the song Vienna, by Billy Joel.

It was 6:00 PM, exactly when I pulled into the SHS parking lot for the Snowflake Ball, the high school's winter dance. It was 6:10 when I pulled away. That was a little weird, since I was chairman of the dance committee. 

I couldn't do it. Maybe it was the letter that came that day. Maybe it was four weeks straight without a day off, between the dance committee, the food drive I was running as student council president, the gym schedule I was keeping up to be in shape for softball, Christmas shopping, AP finals, debate club and helping Mary Anne plan the party she was having next weekend. Maybe it was that I hadn't bothered to find a date. Whatever it was, I just couldn't go into the dance.

I texted Mary Anne to tell everyone that I wasn't feeling well, then I spent an hour driving around town. I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to explain to Mom and Watson and Karen something I couldn't even explain to myself. But after an hour I decided I was tired of burning gas, so I pulled up to the Rosebud. It looked almost empty, which made sense because the high school kids who would have been there on a Friday night were all at the high school, having a good time.

Except for one, apparently. The last person I wanted to see. 

The place was empty, except for Cary Retlin behind the soda counter, leaning on it and staring into space. He looked up as I came in, and smirked.

I almost turned right around and walked out. Cary and I had a rivalry since middle school, which we'd continued through high school thanks to the debate club. We could work together when we had to, but he just had this way of talking to me, like he was making a joke at my expense. I really wasn't in the mood tonight, but it was cold outside and warm and quiet in the cafe, where the only sound was some soft Christmas music.

Cary walked up to me, still smirking, “Good evening, Kristin. It's a surprise to see you here. I heard there was some kind of event tonight. . .”

He was the only one who called me Kristin, but I'd stopped correcting him years ago. And he knew about the dance, and he knew I had put it together. I had to skip the last debate meeting to decorate the gym. “Yeah. Look, can you just give me a table, and a soda?”

“Why, of course.” He said, as he lead me to a table. I took off my coat and put it on back of my chair.

He smiled, “My name is Cary, I'll be your waiter for this evening. May I start by saying that is a lovely dress?” 

I blushed a little. I'd forgotten I was still wearing the dress I was going to wear to the dance. It was just a navy blue halter dress I'd picked out in ten minutes between buying Christmas presents and getting to the school to make posters for the food drive, but sitting there I felt half naked and way over dressed.

“Thanks. Look, I just need a coke. Nothing else.”

“Are you sure? I hear the french fries are good.”

“Just. A. Coke.” I said. I didn't need Cary's games that night.

The smug smile never left his face, “A very good choice. I'll be right back.”

He went and filled a glass, and brought it over to me.

“I didn't put much ice in it. You're chilly enough as it is.”

I glared at him. 

He smiled, “I'll be over there, call if you need me.”

I closed my eyes and nursed my soda, and tried to think of something good. Christmas. My acceptance letter. Some new project for the student council that I could start after winter break. All of those things just made me feel more exhausted.

I looked up and Cary was staring at me, curiously.

“What?” I snapped.

“You put together the dance, so you should have no objections to it. You're not in your usual attire, so you intended to go. You didn't have a date, so you weren't stood up, and you're sitting in a cafe drinking a soda, so you aren't sick. I'm intrigued.” 

“Stay intrigued.” I said.

“Alright.” He said, and he smirked. But he was still staring at me. 

“Don't you have to fold napkins or something?”

“All of my side work was done an hour ago.”

“Fine then, I'll leave.” I said, reaching for my purse. I opened it and. . . realized I'd forgotten my wallet. I switched purses for the dance and I must have left it in my normal bag. I let out a breath and leaned my head back. 

“I don't have any money. But I'm good for $1.75. I'll bring it tomorrow.”

“I'm afraid we don't extend credit, Kristin.” 

“So what do you want me to do? Call someone to bring it to me?”

He walked over to the table, with that twisted little smile on his face, “I'll tell you what. Tell me why you aren't at the dance, and I'll cover you.”

I thought about just walking out on the bill, but that seemed silly when Cary said that he'd cover it. “Fine. I'm tired. I've been working like crazy this year, and I needed some time to myself.”

He sat down across from me, folding his hands on the table. “So. Kristin Thomas is burned out. I thought you'd at least make it to college.”

I almost cringed at the word college, “I am not burned out. I'm just tired.”

“Well you are acting like a three year old who needs a nap. . .”

I stood up and grabbed my coat, “I'm leaving.”

“. . . but I think that's just because you're not sure there's anything left inside of you.”

I stopped and stared at him, “There has to be. I can't burn out now.”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure? Or are you trying to make that true?”

I sat back down, and put my head in my hands. Then I laughed a little, “There was never any difference before. If I said it, I knew it was true.”

“And now?”

“I don't know.”

“I can't say I'm surprised. You've been burning the candle at both ends since you were thirteen.”

“I liked it. I liked being busy. I just. . .”

“Don't anymore.”

I nodded.

He shrugged, “Then stop. You have one more semester of high school, take it easy.”

“I can't. I got early acceptance at Yale, I just got the letter today. I have to keep my AP grades up, and finish out the year as student council president, and softball is coming up fast, and I know the dance is going well, so Stacey so probably going to ask for help with the prom committee, too. . .”

“Well, congratulations. You seem to have found a very prestigious way to work yourself to death.” Cary said, almost frowning, “Why Yale?”

I shrugged, “It's close to home, but it's Ivy League. I'm going for business, and I'm hoping to make some good contacts there. . . meet the right people, that sort of thing.”

He laughed, “It can be so hard to get your foot in the door when your stepfather is a millionaire.”

I glared at him, but my heart wasn't in it. “It didn't seem like this big a deal back in October. It just meant doing what I've been doing since I started high school.”

“Accumulating enough power to overthrow the principal?” He said with a sly smile.

I had to laugh a little, “That wasn't really the plan, but now that you mention it. . .”

“SHS can be your own little banana republic.”

I shook my head, “I'm not that bad.”

“That's a matter of opinion.”

“Hey, I was  _elected_  student council president.”

“I seem to remember armed thugs at the polling booths.”

I did laugh at that, “Being captain of the softball team comes in handy.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Careful, that was almost a sense of humor.”

I smiled, “Sorry. I can tell you what a jerk you are if it makes you feel better.”

“Please do. Between the sense of humor and the dress I'm not sure I'm talking to the right girl.”

“You really are a jerk.”

“That's better. So, if you no longer want to rule the world of SHS, what do you want to do? If Yale wasn't an issue.”

“I don't know. I don't know what I'd do with myself if this lasts. I'd still want to play softball, I think. I'd want to spend more time with my friends, before we all go to college. I know that I'd want to get involved with something again, but only when I'm ready, when I have an idea and I really feel it.”

“Then I don't think you should go to Yale.”

“Okay, so I just turn down my Ivy League first choice. . . then what?”

“You do things you enjoy, you apply for other colleges.” He said, seriously.

“That would be stupid of me. This is a great opportunity, I could do big things. . .”

He stood up, with a smiled and a kind of light in his eyes, “Do you know what you need, Kristin?”

I raised my eyebrows, “No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me.”

He walked around the table, to the back of my chair. I felt his hand on my bare shoulder, then his breath next to my ear, and he whispered, “You need a complication. You need a devil on your shoulder, telling you that all of the big things you want to do are meaningless if you're not happy. Yale doesn't matter, clubs and committees and AP classes don't matter. You matter, and you'll never be able to do anything if you don't take care of yourself first.”

I turned my head slowly to look at him, and he kissed me. It was amazing, I relaxed but at the same time, I felt like a fire was lit inside of me. There was something I wanted again.

Cary pulled away, and smirked, “I make a good devil, don't I?”

I just nodded, a little dazed. “Yeah, you do.”

He walked back to his seat across from me, and leaned back, but he was smiling at me with this smug expression.

“So, um, do you want to go out sometime? Like, on a date?” I asked, a little nervous. That was amazing, but this was still Cary.

He grinned, “Suddenly found some room in that busy life? Are you that desperate for another kiss?”

 _Yes_ , I thought. But I wasn't about to say that to him. “You can't do this.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“You can't just kiss me, and then go back to being a jerk.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” He got up again, and this time he knelt next to me and took my hand, “Soft, but what light through yonder window breaks, tis the moon, and Kristin the sun.”

I pulled my hand away, turning bright red even though there was no one else in the cafe. “Stop that, you idiot.”

He laughed and shook his head, “There's no pleasing you, is there?”

I couldn't deal with this. No matter how good that kiss felt. I stood up to leave.

He stood up at the same time, and we were facing each other. Then he wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me close, and smiled, a real smile.

“I like complications, Kristin. And since I moved here, years ago, you have been my favorite complication of all. My life would be so boring without you. So yes, I would be honored to go out with you. Tomorrow, if you're free.”

I nodded, staring into his eyes. Then I kissed him, and he kissed me back, for a long time. I knew he was going to go on being a jerk, but I realized I wanted that. He wouldn't be Cary if he didn't.

He pulled away, and said, “You should go, I have to close up.” Then he smirked, “Unless you'd like to stay with me and do obscene things on the soda counter.”

I laughed, “That's disgusting.”

I grabbed my coat, and put it on. I was most of the way to the door, when he called me. “Kristin? You might want this back.”

I turned and caught the thing he threw to me. It was my wallet. I stared at it, open mouthed.

“You are complete and total jerk, Cary Retlin!” 

He grinned, “See you tomorrow.”

I just stared at him. Then I laughed, “Sometime around 5. I'll text you.”


End file.
